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Daniel Long wrote a new post
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Read MorePsychosis carried in the gales, for I am surely windblown, windward from my own psyche, where boundaries of reality have eroded. With concealed hands, a nonvisual hallucination caresses the encasement of my soul, provoking verbal responses. Nothingness which wreathes around me, a curve in a state of non-existence meandering...
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Daniel Long wrote a new post
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Read MoreRest now… and let the storm pass. Imagine a bedcover hovering over youand it peacefully covers the coming storm. Rain patters the blanketand you feel it become damp,yet you're shielded from another storm. Rest now… and uncover yourself. Imagine what...
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Why thank you, sir. I’m going to have to check out your work! Thanks again for the comment.
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Daniel Long wrote a new post
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Read MoreHating writing? But having felt great about writing? What is the secret? You just have to bleed into the page, no matter if it’s good or not good enough! Write like the ice rain in winter… tapping the window panes hard...
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“Tap the window panes hard”–yes, it seems the only way to get one to notice poetry. Not the favorite genre of so many…
They seem not to want to work a little to find something of value in the words.
I really like this…Daniel.
j. -
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Yes, the secret to writing is simply to do it.
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Daniel Long wrote a new post
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Read MorePassages of my childhood arise within my mother’s death gaze, bringing reminiscences of olden days. In childhood, we would speak in silent gaze. No mother left to envision me now, now within those quiet eyes. You have gone away oh, dear mother, let the...
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My goodness, this hit me in the gut. My mother passed 8 years ago. But I still sense her keeping an eye on me from above…so I must weigh my decisions carefully.
very relatable write.
j.
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Daniel Long wrote a new post
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Read MoreYou are,my heart, soul, and flower. My mirrored kin and spirit,yet looks and kisses unreturned. You are,the beating heart of my soul,still waves of unrequited lovecrash, pummeling my psyche. You are,my flower whose petals never wilt - rather, bloom on my moonlight of...
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I once experienced this with the mate of a friend of mine. I had to love her from a distance…She wanted to return the feelings, and shared that she did but couldn’t.
It was a tough place to be. The contradictions that love can present are so-well advanced in this poem.
A really good read.
j.
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Poets bare their natures. Right now mine is stormy with anger.
I don’t want to hide under the blanket.
Like you say….too much going on and the blanket is too damp to ignore.
I relate to your poetry, Daniel.
j.